


A Crime of Passion

by WhatSoMalfoy



Series: Rare Pairs LDWS [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Drabble Collection, F/M, Last Drabble Writer Standing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29485371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatSoMalfoy/pseuds/WhatSoMalfoy
Summary: Hermione returns home from work ready to cuddle with fiance Charlie and enjoy their week off before their wedding - but something is very,verywrong.My first entry into the rare pairs edition of LDWS, this Charmione was written with the theme: red/passion and had a word limit of 250.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Series: Rare Pairs LDWS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165721
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	A Crime of Passion

The end of the week hailed, and Hermione was officially on leave. With her wedding to an unexpected Weasley brother looming, Hermione was looking forward to some good old fashioned rest and relaxation amidst a flurry of dress fittings and formal lunches with her mother, future mother in law and bridesmaids. Amongst all of this, Hermione was really, really looking forward to the time she could spend with her fiancé tangled between the sheets. Charlie’s job in Romania kept him ridiculously busy and as a result, had him still living there at least five days a week—but as of this afternoon, he was also a free agent. They had both applied for leave for the week leading up to the wedding and another three after it, to bask in their newly-wedded bliss. It would be perfect, Hermione knew— because she had planned it all down to a T. 

With a spring in her step, Hermione fitted the key into the lock of their apartment and swung the door open. 

Red. Red everywhere. Red covering every surface she could see. Red assaults her senses as her brain attempts to adjust to what her eyes are seeing. Red soaked into the carpet. Red drips from the mantle. She closes the door behind her, her body on some sort of strange autopilot and red sticks to her hand—slicks off of it as she removes it from the handle. She shakes it in a futile effort to remove the stain and moves further into the flat. As her eyes latch onto the knife, her mind comprehends. 

Her lungs tighten, even as she screams his name. She screams for him, already knowing he won’t answer. Violence is a language and she is forced into a lesson in linguistics. It’s written all over her home. It’s evident in the shrill of her voice—cracking, breaking, shattering as she shrieks for him, her legs moving through the apartment, searching. 

She finds him, on their bed, a message written in blood on the wall above the headboard.

 _It was a crime of passion — forgive me._

Hands in her hair, she falls to her knees and sets loose to a guttural scream.


End file.
